


In Vino Amaritas

by Caprichoso



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alcohol, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-02
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-04-12 14:41:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4483217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caprichoso/pseuds/Caprichoso
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It took a bottle of ridiculously strong liquor, but Leorio has finally gotten Kurapika to loosen up enough to laugh. Unfortunately, a drunk Kurapika's mind is like a minefield, and Leorio has never been good at treading carefully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Vino Amaritas

**Author's Note:**

> This piece owes its existence to a headcanon by kurapilka on Tumblr. The title is a play on the old Latin saying, “In wine there is truth.” Now it’s, “In wine there is bitterness.”
> 
> Warning: a mention of grisly death pops up pretty suddenly, then it's gone again.

“…And I swear, by this point, this guy’s about to blow every blood vessel in his head.” Leorio took a swig of his drink, licking his lips before placing his glass back on the coffee table, then continued. “He says to me, ‘Gimme that! I bought it from you, fair and square!’ And I’m like, ‘Nuh-uh. You bought that pretty vase you’ve got there. You never said you wanted to buy what was _in_  it!’” With that, he dissolved into another giggling fit, all-too-soon punctuated by a series of hiccups. “You shoulda seen his face!”

“You didn’t,” Kurapika gasped, shaking his head as he leaned forward on his knees. The glass in his hand tilted with him, nearly spilling on the table, but at the last moment, reflex brought it upright. “You  _didn’t_ ,” he insisted.

“I did!” Leorio’s chest puffed out, and he sat up straight, striking a noble pose, or as close to it as he could manage under the influence. “I hustled that bastard just like he was trying to hustle me!” Leaning closer, he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Know what I said then, just to roast his ass?”

The blond took his lower lip in his teeth, eyes wide with wonder, and Leorio barely restrained himself from reaching out and running his thumb across that lip. Only Kurapika’s reply kept the black-haired man grounded in the real world, where that was sure to earn him a fist to the face. “What’d you say?”

Leorio swallowed hard, pausing for dramatic effect. Absolutely not pausing to tear his thoughts away from that lip and all the sinful things he wanted to do with it. Nope. “'Wanna buy it off me?’”

Kurapika threw his head back and laughed– a melodic, unrestrained laughter unlike anything Leorio had heard before. It was captivating, _beautiful_ – just like Kurapika. Hell, Kurapika had always been sexy, but in this moment, sparkling eyes punctuated with tiny tinges of pink that came and went in a flash, cheeks flushed, a giggle on his lips? No, calling this sexy was calling a priceless gem a pretty rock.

Not for the first time since meeting the Kurta, Leorio wished he’d been born different. Not richer, not smarter, not stronger, but blessed with some kind of artistic talent. Drawing, writing, singing, anything where he could put this feeling to use. Sure, he could manipulate the body– flesh and bone and sinew and all the periphery and trappings– but this? This was the breath of life, and Leorio was an idiot fumbling with a jar, wishing beyond wishing that he could catch and capture it. No, this was the stuff for poets and painters; it was utterly wasted on him.

And damn it all, he was so ridiculously glad it was being wasted on  _him_.

“You would,” giggled Kurapika, raising his glass to his mouth once more, only to abandon his attempt as a last-moment snicker sent the liquid spraying back into the bottom of the glass. “You’re such a shameless whore.”

“Hey, hey, whores have sex for money,” Leorio admonished, waggling a finger at the blond. “I, on the other hand, was teaching a creep a lesson for moral reasons.”

The Kurta’s eyebrows went up, as did the glass, rising to his lips more cautiously this time.

“…And for money.”

To his credit, Kurapika swallowed, only then pointing a triumphant finger at the physician. “Ha! Whore!” There was a warmth to the insult, a familiar tone that was absent during their day-to-day interactions. Leorio resolved to drag it out of him more often, even if it meant spending a fortune on high-end, high-powered booze like what they were having tonight.

“This stuff is great,” Kurapika slurred, seemingly reading Leorio’s mind. “What’d you say it was called again?”

“Absentium, or something like that. It’s illegal in a lot of places, the guy said. He might’ve just trying to jack up the price, but I don’t think I care either way.” To illustrate his point, Leorio took another swig, grimacing as green, herbal fire flowed down his throat. “Damn, this is strong.”

The noise Kurapika made with his mouth was some unholy amalgam of flatulence and a cackle. “And you’re drinking it with ice,” he crowed. “Like a little child.”

“Hey, we can’t all be gluttons for punishment like you,” Leorio retorted, nodding to the Kurta’s glass. “It’s helping you grow a sense of humor, though. You should drink more often.”

“I know, right?” The Kurta tilted his head back and took a deep swig, throat pulsing with the action.

Leorio, in the meantime, tried very, very hard not to be hypnotized by that expanse of pale skin. He was  _not_  dying to know just how soft it felt under his fingers, or what sounds Kurapika would make if Leorio trailed a line of kisses down toward his collarbone, or…

“Thank you, Leorio.” The blond reached out a hand, fingers brushing against Leorio’s and snapping him from his reverie. Brown eyes took on a soft pink tinge, but rather than flicker out as they had been doing all night, they retained their glow. “It’s been years since I let myself cut loose and laugh like this.”

Witnessing that glow directed at anyone would stay with Leorio for a lifetime, but it wasn’t pointed at someone else. No, those eyes were for _him_ , and his heart had stopped completely or was hammering so fast he couldn’t feel it anymore and he fought just to draw a breath because he didn’t deserve that look, not for anything he’d ever done. Much less just for getting Kurapika drunk. It was too much to bear; he had to ruin the moment like he ruined everything beautiful and meaningful. Better on purpose with a joke than accidentally with sincerity gone too far. “Psh, you and I both know you’ve never cut loose a day in your life.”

“Totally not true,” insisted Kurapika, a drunken grin sliding onto his face as he removed his hand and pointed a thumb at himself. “I used to be the most laid-back person in the world. Seriously. I was famous for my pranks.”

“Pranks?” Leorio snorted. “You? Jeez, what happened, man?” It was a casual comment, gentle ribbing among friends, emboldened by a bit too much liquor. This moment was so comfortable, so close, that it was only natural for Leorio to throw a couple jabs– little body blows, nothing serious.

But in this moment of letting down his guard, he’d forgotten what to avoid; he’d forgotten that Kurapika, so strong, so utterly unshakable, had glass ribs protecting a glass heart.

Kurapika stiffened, eyes going wide. The drink in his hand began to shake, even as soft pink grew redder, deeper. An eternity passed in silence, then he set the beverage on the table and took a deep, shuddering breath. “Everyone died when the Spiders came,” he whispered, voice trembling. “Including me.”

Shame and shock and fear gripped Leorio by the back of the neck, paralyzing him. The moment he’d gotten Kurapika to let his guard down, he’d hit him where it hurt the most. “Shit! I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to–” he began, but a crack in his voice stopped him. Cursing inwardly, he tried again. “Sorry. But… what do you mean, you died? You’re right here.”

“I died with my clan, Leorio,” the blond said, voice never rising above that awful whisper. “The person you know is just the leftovers of what I was. When they massacred everyone I ever loved, the Spiders broke me, hollowed me out. All I am now is what little they couldn’t kill– a shell, driven by revenge.”

Try as he might, the taller man couldn’t seem to come up with a response. Of course Kurapika was more than that– so much more– but Leorio couldn’t find the words to express that thought. And just as his brain began cobbling together a rough draft, he was interrupted.

“When I found my mother, she had beetles nesting in her brain.” The words tumbled out without warning, a confession wrenched from the depths of Kurapika’s gut. His eyes went wide, as if he were horrified at his own admission. “I’m sorry. I… I don’t know why I said that.”

“It’s okay,” Leorio murmured, unsure of what else to say. He’d hear any number of horrible things from Kurapika, even if only so his friend could unburden himself.

“No, it’s not,” the Kurta growled, fists clenching. “It’s not okay. It will never, ever be okay. Even if I rid this world of that scum, it won’t bring back a single Kurta. My family is dead, and I’m alone, and…” A strangled sob caught in Kurapika’s throat. “It hurts, Leorio. It hurts  _so much_.” The crack in the dam widened, tears leaking from scarlet eyes, then moments later, those eyes clenched shut, and a near-silent keening sound tore its way from his chest as he turned his face upwards. Sobs wracked his body, shaking him like a rag doll as he wept.

Without a conscious thought, Leorio dropped what he was holding and stood. Onto and off of the coffee table he went with two long strides, then dropped to his knees by Kurapika’s side. Grabbing hold hold of his shoulders to turn him, the physician buried the blond’s face in his chest before wrapping his arms around him. “You may be the last Kurta,” he murmured into golden hair that smelled of herbs and a trace of something smoky. “There’s nothing you or I or anyone can do to change that. But I swear to hell and back, as long as I have a single breath left in my body, you will never, ever be alone again, Kurapika. Even when we’re apart.”

Tears soaked Leorio’s shirt; liquor, spilled in his haste, soaked his knees. He didn’t care. All that mattered in this moment was the shuddering bundle of hurt in his arms. Hands clutched at his back, lithe fingers digging in and releasing, palms pounding aimlessly, just another conduit through which the years of pent-up anguish could escape. Kurapika whimpered and growled and howled into Leorio’s chest, babbling in English and Kurta alike. And the physician merely held his friend, one hand gently stroking through golden hair as the other held him tight.

The strongest person Leorio knew had finally reached his breaking point, and no matter what, he was going to help Kurapika weather this storm.

The crying ebbed and flowed, sometimes stopping entirely long enough for Kurapika to pull away, only to grasp Leorio by the lapels and bury his face under the taller man’s chin as the catharsis began anew. After an eternity, though, he pulled back, wiping a sleeve across his face and sniffling. “Sorry,” he whispered, averting his gaze as a blush rose to his cheeks. “I didn’t mean to–”

“If you try to apologize for something like that again, I’m gonna hit you,” Leorio growled. “I told you you’re not alone; you don’t have to cry alone either.”

The Kurta swallowed hard, eyebrows furrowing. “But–”

“Look, am I your friend or not?”

Kurapika tensed, an unreadable mixture of emotions swirling in his eyes, then he nodded. “You’re my friend, Leorio.” Teeth trapped his lower lip once more. “You’re my closest living friend.”

“Then don’t be stupid,” Leorio began, then stopped short as the second sentence hit home. All at once, his mouth began twitching, his nose started to run, and a pesky lump formed in his throat. “And… what you said… that makes it mutual. So just… just keep that in mind.”

The blond fixed him with a quizzical stare, then let out a tiny hint of a chuckle. “Leorio, are you crying?”

“E-eh?” Leorio furiously swiped at his cheeks, coughing and shaking his head as he did so. “Just– uh, just allergies. There must be some crazy stuff in this booze.”

Mirth twinkled in the Kurta’s eyes, and a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “I’m pretty sure if Gon were here, he’d say a hug cures everything, including ‘allergies’.”

Leorio blinked, blinked again. “Huh?”

Kurapika sighed. “Just get over here, you big lummox.” With that, he wrapped his arms around Leorio once more and pulled him close, resting his ear against the taller man’s chest.

Leorio opened his mouth to protest for the briefest of instants, but the feeling of Kurapika so close cut off all rational thought, and he succumbed without much of a fight. Careful, hesitant fingers brushed against those silky strands of blond hair, ready to pull away if the touch was undesired.

“That feels wonderful,” murmured the Kurta. “Any time you want to do that, feel free, as long as we’re alone.”

“Careful, I might just take you up on that.” Still, emboldened by the response, Leorio continued, letting his fingers run deeper to play with Kurapika’s scalp. The Kurta let out an appreciative moan, which Leorio did his level best to ignore.

“I wish you could have met the real me.” The words were soft, wistful, but no longer filled with so much pain.

“This is the only you I know,” replied Leorio, not ceasing his ministrations. “And I’m okay with that if you are. Still, I’m not so sure that other you is gone completely. If you want, we can try drawing that person out every now and then.”

Kurapika nodded, cheek warm against Leorio’s chest. “I think I’d like that.”

They probably made quite the sight: a tall, dark-haired man kneeling in a puddle of liquor, holding a short, blond one and stroking his hair. If someone didn’t know any better, they might even assume the two were lovers.

Leorio let a soft smile tug at his mouth. Him and Kurapika– lovers. That didn’t sound so bad.


End file.
